


Just Be

by tromana



Series: Fall to Grace [4]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode s04e24 The Crimson Hat, F/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tromana/pseuds/tromana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's the exception to a lot of your rules. Episode tag to 4x24 The Crimson Hat</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Divinia Serit](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Divinia+Serit).



> Written for Table D: Prompt 05: Sound of silence on Paint It Red.

She finds you soon enough; nestled deep in your attic space. During your prolonged absence, nothing has changed up here, excepting the thin layer of dust that has slowly but surely gathered. Why would it change? Nobody else uses this space. That's why you adopted it as your own a few years ago.

Half of you can imagine her escaping up here from time to time, though. Disturbing the dust, sitting on the makeshift bed and just wishing you would respond to her calls, her text messages, and her e-mails. Coming up here to dissociate herself from the hubbub in the lower floors.

And to feel just that little bit closer to you.

It should be humbling and in a strange sort of way, it is. However, at the same time, it's something you've grown to expect of her.

Not that you aren't just as predictable as she is at times.

After all, it took her but ten minutes after your flight from the interrogation room to find you up here. As soon as the door creaked open, you realized just who it would be. This isn't a task she would dare entrust on any of the others, after all. The crooked half smile of relief briefly dances on her lips when she realizes she's right soon disappears, though. You know she has never taken much pride in her abilities.

Carefully, she closes the (literal) distance between you and not a moment too soon.

She even has two cups of steaming hot tea in hand. That's probably what caused the delay in her joining you up here.

Usually, you don't like it much when other people prepare your tea. You're very particular about it. Teresa Lisbon is the one exception to that rule.

Then again, she's the exception to a lot of your rules.

In silence, you nod your thanks to her and accept the drink. You don't test it though, not yet. It's too hot for that. Besides, you already know that it'll be a perfectly acceptable cup of tea, anyway. She's probably been drinking it a lot more herself lately, too. For old time's sake or some nonsensical reason like that, anyway.

Instead, you balance it precariously on your lap.

When she takes her seat beside you, not even bothering to wait for an invite, she doesn't look at you. That's a blessed relief. You're too deep in your own thoughts right now.

Instead, you spend the time twisting the wedding ring around your finger. It's something you do every time you feel nervous, agitated. Contrary to popular belief, it doesn't make you feel any closer to your deceased wife (that's impossible), but the repetitive action helps you think through your issues. And if nothing else, it can give you something else to focus on instead of the unerring sense of guilt.

Really, you deserve far worse than what she's already hurled at you over the past couple of days. If anything, she's gone easy on you.

You've sent her through hell and back, these past few months, but no amount of apologies is going to make that any better.

But somehow, despite all that, she's still here, by your side and waiting.

Despite the guilt, it's a relief to be close by her again. For months, you've felt like a boat without a rudder, drifting senselessly along to who knows where. Even with the plan…

The plan, oh, the latest plan to get closer to Red John. It's yet another one that can be listed amongst your failures. You're losing count of those already, but that doesn't matter now. It's the one thing that kept you sane during those long months away from here.

The one thing that you hoped meant you would be able to procure her forgiveness.

Even now, you're not entirely sure if you've earned it. It's too soon after the event. More time needs to pass to allow the dust to settle. And that's if it can even be classified as 'over' just yet. After all, you have Lorelei Martins in custody, just waiting to be broken. You're confident you can yield information from her, but how soon? That remains to be seen. Besides, who knows just what traps Red John has laid in her pretty little mind? Maybe the plan wasn't a complete and utter disaster, but that remains to be seen.

Regardless, you know that Lisbon's been worn thin by this whole sorry state of affairs. Probably just as much as you are now; the stress of all this will take a long time to recover from. It takes far less time to break something than it does to put the pieces back together again. That's something you understand all too well from past experiences.

Still, you continue twisting the ring and scrutinizing her. You wonder if, this time, it was all worth it. If there had been another way.

What could happen if you didn't have the issue of Red John loitering in between you.

What you would  _want_  to happen, if it were at all possible.

She's seen you at your worst, and she's stuck by you through thick and thin. Anybody else would have run for the hills a long time ago and justifiably so. At times, you've been utterly reprehensible, but she's taken it all.

Why?

You know why.

When you said those two words, those dangerous two words that had snuck their way out during one, fateful, charged moment, you had absolutely meant them.

There are only two other people who you've ever dared to say 'love you' to: your wife and your daughter.

It's never been words that you can say too easily. They mean something, that's why.

She hasn't said them back yet, but she doesn't need to. And you know, she's not entirely sure what you meant when you said it. But it's safer that way; the longer she's lost in the depths of confusion, the less at risk she is from a personal attack from Red John. He cannot know just how happy you make one another; he already sees you as his personal plaything.

You already know that he thinks Lisbon is expendable – knows that you find her a price too high to pay.

He knows that she's a distraction.

And all the wishing and hoping in the world isn't going to make her life any less in danger. All you can do now is apply damage control.

Slowly, she turns to face you in turn and opens her mouth. Whatever she's thinking soon fizzles out because, instead, she takes a sip of her drink.

There are so many words that could slip from between her lips.

So many things you wouldn't mind hearing her say.

None of it is necessary; not now.

She knows you, you know her.

The feel of her hand resting gently beside yours as you sit, sipping at the hot tea is enough. It has to be.

For now.


End file.
